Fort Caroline was suddenly reinvaded-by
two busloads of schoolboys. They swarmed
over the grassy earthworks in a way that
would have put the Spaniards to shame.
"With invasions like this," said Mr. De
Weese, "it's hard to keep grass growing."
Well, maybe so. But what's the use of re
building a fort if small boys can't recapture
it now and then? I asked one of them what he
thought of it. "It's neat," he shouted, and
clambered up the wall.
Another day, again with Mr. Manucy, I set
out for Matanzas Inlet, 14 miles south of St.
Augustine, to see the horrifying end of this
particular portion of Huguenot history.
Aged stone walls bask in the golden glow
of lamplight on St. George Street, athorough
fare of colonial days. Here cars pass under
balconies where mantilla-draped sefioritas
once gossiped; the Old Spanish Inn trans
ports visitors into the past. During a festival
last September celebrating the city's 400th
anniversary (below), celebrants sing and
dance down St. George Street. Crumbling
in decay only a decade ago, this section of
the city provided a pilot project for the St.
Augustine Historical Restoration and Pres
ervation Commission, headquartered in the
balconied Arrivas House at left center.
EKTACHROME(BELOW) BY EMORY KRISTOF; KODACHROMEBY ALBERT MOLDVAY(CN.G.S.